


Ivory Tower

by QueenofHalicarnassus (orphan_account)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 08:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17525231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/QueenofHalicarnassus
Summary: Sometimes Noctis wishes that the hunts and camping and the just the four of them on the road would last forever. It can't be though and Prompto comforts and empathizes with him.Little one-shot focusing on Prompto and Noctis' relationship. It's pretty close to being shippy, but you can read it how you like.





	Ivory Tower

Gladio sat beside Noctis in the Regalia, Prompto was turned all the way around in his seat, knees pressing into the leather and arms wrapped around the headrest. Ignis was steering with one hand, the other tapping a finger against the car door as they headed at a leisurely pace along the Duscaen highway. 

Prompto was talking about the hunt, a simple but involved one. Whiz had offered to give them a few nights free staying on at his lodgings and a bit of gil if they would help retrieve a shipment of chocobo feed. Prompto said something about the chocobos getting fat on the feed and tilted his head back, blonde hair whipping about his face from the wind, blue eyes bright and happy, a wide honest grin across his face.

Noctis couldn’t help the small smile which squirmed across his face at seeing and hearing Prompto, his friend's energy was contagious at times. He glanced over at Gladio and saw the man chuckling, fond amusement in his eyes. Ignis’ gaze, pleased and relaxed, flashed in the rear view mirror for a moment before returning to the road.

Noctis closed his eyes, let the sun melt into his skin, the wind tousle and play with his hair, Prompto’s voice soothe him into feeling genuinely happy.

If he could bottle this moment and let it play out a million times over for eternity, he would. The intensity of the emotion, the desire for it to be true, hit Noctis hard and he was opening his eyes. A frown replaced the smile and his stomach swooped.

Prompto’s wordless dialogue --to Noctis’ ear at least-- changed when he started saying Noctis’ name. He was frowning in concern.

“What?” Noctis said, blinking and returning to reality.

“Are you okay man?” Prompto asked, looking genuinely worried.

“He’s been calling your name,” Gladio stated, looking over at Noctis.

“M’fine,” Noctis replied.

Gladio shook his head. “I swear, you’re going to fall asleep in a fight one day.”

Noctis shrugged one shoulder, not replying to Gladio’s comment. Prompto’s gaze lingered on him, even as he turned back around in his seat.

The rest of the ride Noctis felt disquieted and melancholy.

 

 

They arrived back at Whiz’s Chocobo Post and spoke with Whiz. The man helped them haul the feed from their trunk to the stalls where it was kept. He thanked them profusely and showed them their room and told them to stop by for a meal.

Ignis headed in to do repairs to some of their clothing while Gladio started chatting up a local girl. Noctis watched Prompto pet and feed the various Chocobos in their pens. Usually he would be right beside his friend enjoying stroking the feathers, but his mood from the car was still there. He shook his head and walked along the perimeter fence. Hopping down the little incline at the back of the outpost, Noctis sat down and looked out.

The Nebula Woods were spread out in front of him, and part of the Alstor Slough could be seen as well. The sun was hanging low in the sky and the horizon was a cast of orange and blue.

“Whatcha doing?”

Prompto was hopping down beside him and seating himself. Noctis shrugged, wanting to curl away from his friend. He felt raw and wrong right now, not the way he wanted Prompto to see him.

“Okay,” Prompto said.

Noctis expected him to say more, but Prompto didn’t, just looking out at the sunset, right beside Noctis, solid and there for Noctis as he always was. Noctis, usually so reticent, suddenly felt the need to talk, to explain, to have someone, especially Prompto, understand.

“Before, when I was supposed to marry Lunafreya, before everything with Insomnia,” Noctis stopped, trying to summon words, and fighting the panicked sensation in his stomach which battled between just leaving or staying and talking.

“Yeah,” Prompto said softly, blue eyed gaze turning to Noctis.

Noctis clenched his fists, the desire for Prompto to understand and therefore himself, keeping him from leaving.

“I didn’t want to.”

It was silent.

“Oh.”

The sound of a happy chocobo trill rang through the air.

“I knew, I mean, I thought it’d be good, the kind of picture perfect, fairy-tale, story book kind of good. I’m the prince, I’ll marry a princess. Lunafreya’s perfect, and we’re close, so it’s not her. But,” Noctis hesitated again, words resting at the tip of his tongue but unwilling to come out.

He turned to look at Prompto and was met with an earnest and open face that showed every bit of care and concern. It clicked then, what he was feeling, the melancholy, the frustration.

“Because her and I, we’re this story book thing, getting married, ending up on the throne, bringing peace to the land. And that’s where I’d be, on a throne, married to a perfect woman, doing my duty and helping my people. I’d be happy, I would, I think about that and I know I would. But when I think of perfect, I, I don’t know Prom,” Noctis raised a hand, fingers stretching toward the sun.

“When I think of perfect it feels wrong. I don't want perfect, I want you and me and Gladio and Ignis in the Regalia, like today, with sunshine and the wind blowing and you talking. Or I want to be taking out a hunt, going to bed tired and aching in a tent or in a cramped trailer where I have to share a bed with you or sleep on the floor. I think of delivering dog tags to Dave, of giving peace to a family. And that’s, that’s not story book perfect, it’s imperfect, it’s what most people think is shitty, but every time I think about it, I just know that it’s what I’d want to do, for the rest of my life.”

Noctis stopped, hand lowering and his eyes turning to the weeds and pebbles on the ground.

“Even though it’s changed, and the story book stuff, the perfect one, isn’t the same. I’m still supposed to save the kingdom, and I’m still supposed to marry Lunafreya and sit on that throne and be a king and live in a big place and rule.”

Noctis was silent and his fists clenched again, that ache in his heart sharpening.

“I just want to stay on the road, with you, forever. Even though it’s not the story book, even though it doesn’t make sense. It's what I want.”

Noctis felt the fierce ache turn into a dull throb and all the anger and frustration died to be replaced with melancholic and weary resignation. He refused to look at Prompto, to see the confusion and weirded out expression, to see another reminder of why what he wanted was just some strange and convoluted fantasy.

He felt fingers pull at his clenched hand. They gently uncurled his fingers before brushing against his palm as though soothing away the pain. Then they laced through his own, the hold loose but steady and there.

“It’s okay,” Prompto said in a small soft voice full of emotion.

He tugged a little on Noctis, drawing them together so Noctis’ shoulder pushed up against his.

“I want it too,” Prompto said.

Noctis turned to look at Prompto. Prompto looked sad like he did, resigned to what destiny had in store, and wishing for the same thing. Noctis felt tears well up in his eyes and he forced them back, instead turning to look back at the sunset. Noctis let his head fall against Prompto’s shoulder.

At least, for now, he could live in his ivory tower of hunts and drives, of camping and laughing and talking and just being. For now, the astrals were forgotten, Niflheim appeased, and destiny a fantastical imaginary being. For now it was just them. Noctis closed his eyes and let Prompto’s shoulder hold him up. It was enough.


End file.
